To Trust
by Liek
Summary: Sequel to The Long Way Home. After twenty years captivity in Mordor, and the long way home Thranduils children try to fit into life again.
1. Default Chapter

**To Trust. **

_Prologue_

The soft sound of footsteps came closer and Thranduil looked up from his work.  
He waited.  
In his mind he tried to follow the steps, see their way across the hallway, untill they stopped in front of his door.  
The elvenking hold his breath and watched the handle.  
'Open the door' he tought. "come on, you can do it, open the door. I'm right here for you. All you have to do is open the door.'  
But the handle didn't move and the door stayed closed.  
The footsteps quietly moved away.

But they would be back tomorrow.  
And the day after.  
And the day after that.

And Tranduil would sit in his study and look up from his work. Holding his breath and watching the handle.

Waiting for the day Legolas would finally open that door.

Waiting untill he would tell his fatvher the horrors that kept him from sleeping at nigth, and exactly what had happend to the four of them in the twenty years they were gone.

Waiting for the day his son would trust him again.


	2. Chapter 1

**(disclaimer:I own nothing of course.. and I making no money)**

**Chapter 1**

Little Lainfea Thranduilliel was slowly suffocating. She was trapped inside a small stone cell, no bigger than a coffin, and no air seemed to find its way in. Outside the darkness, she could hear cruel voices talk to each other.

Sometimes they spoke in the language of the orcs, and sometimes in her own language. But they all seemed to tell her the same thing.

She was a horrible person. It was her fault she had to be in this coffin. She had been bad. She hadn't told her name when she should have.

She had killed other people. She couldn't add up numbers as good as the other elflings. She didn't fit in. Her Ada didn't love her. She was a failure, and she deserved everything she got.

The walls of the coffinlike cell moved even closer towards her. She screamed.

* * *

Lanthir Thranduillion, youngest son of the children of Thranduil, could hear his little sister's scream penetrate his mind, but he had to ignore it, as he was slowly transforming into a monster. 

He was back in Mordor, back in the celler where he and his siblings had lived for twenty years, but everything was different this time.

Orcs had placed him inside one of the bathtubes they used to boil slaves for fun, but the tube was not filled with water. It was filled with blood.

The orcs laughed and patted Lanthir on the head.  
"Blood of your victims," they said smiling, and added more, and more, and more, until the was nearly overflowing.

The blood had almost reached Lanthir's lips, he could almost taste it.  
He felt sick and struggled the bonds that kept him in his place. "Let me go!" he shouted. "LET ME GO!"  
But the orcs only smiled. "Why do you want to go? You belong with us. Welcome, little brother."

Lanthir looked down. The blood was gone now, but where it had touched his body his skin had changed. It had taken an ugly green color now, and his nails had changed into claws.

"NO!" Lanthir yelled. 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

Limloeth rushed towards her siblings as fast as she could. They were calling for her, they needed her help.  
She ran through the hallways of the prison, trying to reach her brother and sister before it was too late. But there was always one extra turn, one more door.  
No matter how fast she ran, she wouldn't be in time to safe her little siblings.

She was a failure, gifted with the powers to heal, but unable to use it when she needed it most.  
She increased her speed, but there were still more doors, more turns.

She was trapped inside an endless labyrinth.

She would never reach her siblings in time, and even if she did, she would not be able to help them. Yet she kept on trying. A desperate attempt, while the walls stretched out before her.

"LAINFEA!" she screamed. "LANTHIR! LEGOLAS!"

Legolas was sitting on the window-sill of his room, leaned against the cold window, staring at the stars. Whenever he felt sleepy, he would move his head to a new spot on the window, a spot that was still cold, so he would be awake again.

He could hear his siblings screaming and he admired their courage. They still went to bed every night, they even allowed themselves to sleep.  
Legolas was not that brave. He was fifty-five years old, almost fully grown, but he was afraid of the darkness, for he feared the monsters hiding in his closet and under his bed.

He, the eldest son of Thranduil, was afraid to go to sleep.  
He wasn't brave enough to face the dreams.

Legolas stared at the stuffed animal he had clutched tightly to.  
Before he had been captured, he had considered himself too old for such a childish toy, and the only reason he had picked it from his shelf afterwards was to give it to his youngest sister, who was much in need of a toy of some sort.  
But now Legolas held it, for he found he could not let go.

The toy still smelled of the times he had played with it. The soft scent of the trees, a bit of his mother's perfume.  
It smelled familiar, safe.  
He hugged the toy closer.

He wanted so badly to feel safe again, but he had secrets darker than the nights in Mordor.  
Secrets his father could never find out, for he would hate Legolas forever.

He would never trust anyone with those secrets, though they weighted on Legolas' soul, pulling him down, preventing him from feeling at home, even though he was.

No, Legolas would not sleep, or scream, like his siblings.  
For he knew where his nigthmares would take him. He could point the exact moment in time.  
He knew what he would scream.

It was not easy, being responsible for your mother's death.

The weight of that event was pushing Legolas' shoulders down at all times. It was keeping him from recovering, and it was starting to affect his soul.

Legolas knew he would have to share it with somebody eventually, or die of heartache.  
But he hadn't figured out which on of those choices he liked best.

In the room next to his he could hear his siblings scream.

* * *

TBC> 

And a note to all of you who were used to my updating speed when I was posting TLWH.. There is absolutely NO way I can do the same for To Trust, as I suddenly have a real life. SORRY!

And because of the Real Life.. i will not answer reviews now.. I will sent you and repley when I do have te time..

GTG..


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Thranduil stared at the papers on his desk, feeling utterly incapable of anything.

He had loved being a father, and when his children had been younger, it had always been easy.  
His view on parenthood had been simple back then, all you had to do was love them, and everything would be alright.  
All hurts of his little children had vanished with a kiss on the wounds, a stroke on the head.  
If his children had had nightmares, he would have sat with them until they had fallen asleep again.

But the great elvenking had not counted on his children being caught by orcs and being tortured for twenty years. He had not counted on them being wounded so grievously.

And now all his theories seemed to fail. To love them was not enough anymore. They were so hurt, and there was nothing he could do.  
Their nightmares didn't disappear if he woke them; they would only stare at him again, wide-eyed, frightened out of their minds, until they fell asleep again, and dreamed the same dreams all over.

He didn't know what was best. He didn't know if her should wake them from their dreams, because his children were scared, or if he should let them dream, even if the dreams where horrible, because then at least they would have some sleep.

The elvenking wanted to do the right thing so badly. He wanted to heal his children, but the truth was he didn't know what was the right thing anymore.

He thought about his worries before the attack. Legolas had been a little too playful for his age, and had always spent far more time practicing archery than studying. Thranduil had been worried that his boy would never grow up, or become the serious leader, the second in command of the kingdom.

Now the elvenking could only wish his son would have been able to play a little longer. Thranduil wished he could go back in time and erase all those times he had dragged Legolas off the archeryfield, and away from his friends."Play a little longer," he wanted to say now. "You have an eternity to grow up, my son. Stay young while you can. "

Twenty years of Mordor had transformed his laughing, playful, son into a young adult, that was always too responsible, too silent, too serious.

'And not sleeping,' Thranduil added inwardly.

He had tried talking to his older son about that, but the more Thranduil had pushed his son to talk, the more Legolas had closed himself off.

It was another one of the king's dilemmas. Another one of the riddles he didn't know how to solve. Should he force Legolas to talk, or should he wait until the boy came to him? It seemed both choices were wrong.

He thought about other problems he used to have. Limloeth had never given him any worries in the past. She had been a lively child, caring and loving.  
In a way, she still was.  
Except for the fact that Thranduil suspected she tried to cure the pain of others so she would not have to feel her own.

The elvenking knew she felt guilty about something, but he didn't know what, and she wouldn't tell him.

His oldest daughter was as closed as Legolas, though in a different way. She didn't retreat in herself, she retreated in helping others.

Lanthir had his own problems. There were times when the youngest of Thranduil's sons would sit quietly in a corner, as silent as his older siblings. Lanthir had never been silent as a child. He had always been a waterfall of speech; a source of endless questions.  
His youngest son had always sought the reason behind everything, and in that,  
he hadn't changed at all. Thranduil suspected that the main question on Lanthir's mind nowadays was just WHY he had had to suffer twenty years of slavery in Mordor.  
Thranduil didn't mind his son asking himself questions like that. He often asked himself that same question. Why him? Why his children?  
What the elvenking didn't like about Lanthir was the answer the young elfling had come up with, for his young son had decided to put all the blame on himself.  
And Thranduil had not been able to convince him otherwise.

The elvenking stared back at the papers on his desk.  
Another dilemma.

Sigil, the tutor of his children had passed these papers to him. They were drawings Lainfea had made, when she was supposed to be reading or writing.  
Thranduil had counted them. There were 658 drawings of orcs torturing other people. Sometimes it was Legolas, Limloeth, or Lanthir, sometimes Lainfea herself, and sometimes human slaves.

He had even recognized Lalaith, his wife, one one of the pictures. She was lying on the ground, with closed eyes, in a field of red.

He shivered.  
It hurt him greatly to look at the drawings. He felt more incompetent than ever. He had not prevented this.

The Necromancer had offered him a trade a long time ago: his family for his kingdom, and he had had no other choice than to choose his kingdom. He couldn't abandon the lives of thousands for the lives of five.

He stared at the drawings again and felt sick. Some of the drawings were ripped to pieces, while others had angry lines crossed over them. He had tried to restore them, to find out had had bothered his youngest child. He had seen it, and had thrown up at the gruesome sight.

Yet he had to look at them. With her drawings, Lainfea was the only one who told him what had happened.  
He didn't want to know, but he had to.

He stared at the large red spots on the drawing and cried.

He had no idea what Lainfea would have been like if she had grown up with them. In fact, he had no idea what Lainfea was like now.

She was born in Mordor, and had lived almost her entire life as a slave. Yet she was strong, and  
lighthearted. Her main problem was not trying to understand what the orcs had done to her. She had already found her way: draw her memories, and then rip them to pieces.

His little girl's worst problem was trying to fit in her new life. She wastrying so hard not to fail the people around her. She tried so hard to fit in, to be like all the others.

He wanted to tell her that it didn't matter that she was a little different than the other children. He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to fit in. He wanted to tell her he would love her anyway.

But he barely knew her, and when he greeted her, she stared at him. When he hugged her,she cringed.

The elvenking stared at his desk again.  
So many difficult situations, so many problems.  
His eyes found the letter again.

The first time he had read the letter, he had ripped it to pieces and thrown it aside angrily.

'The arrogance of these elves!' he had thought.

But in the days after that, after nights of listening to his children scream into the darkness, after hours of sitting in a corner, without knowing what to do, he had picked the letter up again, and had reassembled it.

He had found himself staring at it often after that moment.

"It seems to me that your children are much in need of healing and a safe environment now," it read.

"Duh!" Thranduil said out loud, annoyed by the letter already. "They were in MORDOR for twenty years!"  
"It is a known fact that Mirkwood..." Thranduil gritted his teeth. 'GREENwood' he corrected in his mind. 'GREENwood, you stupid, arrogant Noldo.'  
"It is a known fact that Mirkwood has few safe places left."  
'All the fault of that father-in-law of yours, because he refused to give the necessary military support...'  
But the elvenking read on.  
"And therefore I offer you and your family a stay in Imladris, to recover, for as long as needed.  
With kind regards,

_Elrond Eärendillion  
Celebrían Celeborniel_."

It was that last sentence that drew Thranduil's attention time after time, day after day.  
So many dilemmas.

* * *

TBC..

again.. i have no time to answer reviews.. BUT.. I will answer those of who hava a 'findable' email-ad someday in person.. probebly next week.

so I'm really really sorry I'm not answering you now..

Except one of you... Moonshine 44.. there is absolutely no reason for you to feel offended.. I was not trying to be ovensive in any way.. I just have a wicked sence of humor.. and the person I like to make fun of most is myself.. Therefore.. when I write "I can't answer now because I have a RL" I mean: "Ican not answer because I am to busy"I didn't say anything about people not having lives when reading fanfics.. I saidI didn't have a life.. meaning me (and I'm just so happy with my job..)

and duh.. of coursereading and writing ff is a real hobby. It is the best hobby there is! it supports your creativity, empathyand intelligence.. it builds brains like sports build muscles. I would never think otherwise.

I hope I didn't offend you now.. It was never my intention.

Liek


	4. Chapter 3

_Again.. RL made it impossible to answer any reviews.. I do promise i will get to that I really will!_

_Chapter 3_

Elrond watched the sky above Imladris and sighed. There was still no sign of a bird carrying a response to his letter, and it greatly worried the elven lord.

He knew the house of Oropher was renowned for its stubbornness, but he had always thought Thranduil was at least a sensible king, and even if he wasn't, he should be a loving father.  
He should not let his children suffer like they were now. He should have accepted the offer.

"You are forgetting, my love, there are two kinds of elves," Celebrian said behind him. As always, she had guessed correctly what he was thinking about.  
Celebrian did not have the powers her mother had, but she knew her husband very well, and she could guess his thoughts easily.

Elrond turned around. "Two kinds of elves? But both kinds love their children. If the twins or Arwen were hurt...I would not hestitate...I would do anything..."  
"Aye, my love," Celebrian said. "But you are a healer. You have learned to react with compassion and forgiveness. Thranduil is a fighter. And as such, he learned to react with pride and..."  
"Stubbornness?" Elrond asked dryly.  
"Strength," Celebrian corrected, a small smile touching her lips. "And it takes a long time for those who are proud and strong to change their minds."  
"And in the meantime, his children suffer," Elrond said, frustrated.  
"My mother says it will be alright. She has foreseen it," Celebrian stated.  
"You know as well as I do that what your mother sees does not always come to pass," Elrond said somewhat grumpily.  
"All will be well," Celebrian said, quite confident.  
"I can only hope so," Elrond replied.  
He knew a bit about being captive, and he knew how lingering the effects of it could be, and his captivity had been nothing compared to the endless horrors of Mordor.

"I can only hope..." he said once more, his eyes searching the sky once more.

* * *

Legolas learned against the cold window of his room again, watching the courtyard. Beneath him, on the other side of the glass, he could see the other boy his age practicing archery.

He spotted Cuilcalad, Milui, and Gildin, who had been his best friends for as long as he could remember. Once, not even that long ago, he would have stood there with them, joking as they did, laughing at the poor aims of his friends.

But when he thought of the target now, he could only see an orc, or a corsair, towering above him, ready to kill him, or  
kill one of his siblings.

Archery had always been Legolas' favorite pastime, but he could no longer see any joy in it. The long journey home after Mordor had taught him what it was really like to kill a living creature. You watched, you aimed, you shot. If you were lucky, it would drop dead, and if you weren't, you would have to shoot again. If you still had time, that is.

He couldn't laugh as the arrows missed their targets anymore, for in his mind, he counted the time between the missed shot and the next, and knew that his friend out there would have been dead, if this had really been a battle.  
In his mind, he could see their blood drip on the grass of the practice field.

Sometimes one of the friends of his childhood would look up, and Legolas would move away from the window as fast as he could. He knew the other three were worried about him. They wondered why he stayed hidden, why he didn't come out and meet them.  
They had sent him a letter, asking him to join, saying he would feel better if he did.

But Legolas didn't want them to see the empty shell he had become.  
They thought of him as a hero. A boy their age that had survived Mordor, and made the trip back while looking after his siblings.  
His story had brought hope into the hearts of the elves again. The spirit to fight.

And therefore Legolas could never show anyone the darkness of his soul.  
He couldn't let them know the large parts of him he had left behind, parts of Legolas Thranduillion that were spread along the road. The parts that didn't survive.

"Stop it!" a voice said behind him. Legolas' heart skipped a beat, his hand reaching for a sword he did not have, and he began to hyperventilate in panic.  
"I don't know what you are doing, Legolas, but you have to stop," Limloeth continued.

Legolas tried to breathe normally again.  
"Do. Not. Sneak. Up. On. Me. Like. That!"  
"I'm sorry," Limloeth apologized, her eyes growing sad. "I brought you some food," she added and nodded at the tray in her arms.  
"I'm not hungry," he said.  
Limloeth looked at him worriedly. She noticed the darks rings under his eyes, and the despair in his voice.  
"You have to eat, brother. We need you. You can't leave us."

Legolas stared out of the window again. Milui had missed the target completely, and Cuilcalad rolled on the ground laughing.  
Legolas' eyes filled with tears. 'If that had been a spider...' he thought and shivered. 'Milui would have been dead. And all those around him...'

"You are closing yourself off again," his sister said, interrupting his trail of thoughts. "It is the same as you did with Biddy and Artamir, only this time it is worse."

After escaping Mordor, the children had stayed with two humans for a while, but where his siblings had blossomed in Osgiliath, Legolas had pulled himself out of all fun, and retreated into himself.

"I thought I couldn't heal in Osgiliath, because Ada wasn't there," Legolas said sadly.

"Now I know I just can't heal," he whispered brokenly, and looked out of the window again.

"Nonsense, Legolas!" Limloeth said angrily. "Of course you can heal! You just have to try harder!"

"Try harder! TRY HARDER! ARE YOU INSANE!" Legolas' voice failed from anger.  
Didn't his sister see how hard he had been trying? How he had tried to fit in? But he couldn't!  
Tears welled up in his eyes. He just couldn't.

He stared out of the window again. Gildin had missed the target as well.  
"I'm broken, Limloeth," he said softly. "It is like...The entire world is moving without me. There is warmth, but I can't feel it. There is food, but I can't taste it. There are colours, but they are not visible to me. I am locked up in this cold, grey world composed of sorrow and pain, and there is no way out. I tried, Lim. I tried as hard as I could. But then..."

He stopped talking. He couldn't say it. Memories.  
He could see his mother on the ground again, staring up at him, while the orcs beat her to death. All because he had tried to escape.  
How could they expect him to be happy and joyful if he had to live with that? How could they expect him to heal?  
He grew angry again.

"Leave me alone, Limloeth," he snapped. "Go heal Lanthir, or Lainfea, or yourself, or the cat, or whoever! I'm beyond repair."

"You can't give up, you can't just let go and die! " she said, angry as well, though not only at her brother, but at herself. She could not heal him. She had failed.

"Maybe... " Legolas said softly, not looking at her but staring out into the distance again."Maybe it is better if I just... " his voice was hardly heard now.

He turned around and looked Limloeth straight in the eye, allowing her a glimpse into his soul.  
She could see the pain hidden there. The pain hidden from the world for so long. It was torturing his soul, and he could not escape from it. It pursued him, and had nearly caught its prey. She could feel it, and she shivered.

"Maybe it's better if I just fade," he said, finally speaking what had been on his mind for so long.

* * *

TBC 


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

"No," Limloeth said after a moment, backing away from her brother and shaking her head. "No." She looked up at Legolas, her eyes full of tears. "No," she said, asher voice began to sound hoarse. "No."  
"Lim...I..."  
"No!" she said, much louder now. "No! No! No! No! No! No! NO! NO!" She shook her head wildly.  
"Lim..."  
"NOOO!" she screamed hysterically.  
"Lim I can't... not like this... I..."  
"No...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no!"

She rocked back and forth, as if she was in a great deal of pain. Her face was as white and snow, and her hands were pressed against her ears, in order to not hear a word he said. She repeated the word "no" so fast now she choked on it.  
She heaved, gulped for air a few times, coughed, and continued.

Legolas rushed towards her, grapped her by her wrist, and shook her a few times. "STOP IT!" she screamed, and tried to hit him, scratch him, hurt him in any form.  
But Legolas was stronger.  
"No," he said.  
She kicked him a few times but he ignored it. He continued restraining her until she gave up resisting him, and she collapsed on  
his shoulder, crying until she could no longer breathe.

"Hush..." he said softly. "Hush, Lim, It is not worth crying over. I'm not worth spilling your tears for. It would be better this way."  
He was trembling a bit as well. Fighting with Limloeth had drained his strength. He was very weak, after not eating or sleeping for a long  
time. It wouldn't take him long to fade...to forget everything so that the pain could stop, and he could be at peace.

Not long at all.

"You can't just leave!" Limloeth had found her voice again. "We need you. You can just leave us behind. Lanthir would give up as well. He would  
blame himself. And I would give up too...because I couldn't heal you. And Ada because he has lost us a second time. And Greenwood, for it can not exist without a king."

"I'm not that important," Legolas said sternly. He didn't want to hear this.  
He wanted to fade and be happy about it.

"It will be the end of Greenwood. We will all die. Only Lainfea will remain behind. Alone."

"Ada will not be bothered by my death...not if he finds out-" He closed his eyes. 'Not now,' he thought. 'No memories now...'  
His mind was kind enough not to show the scene of his mother's death this time. But memories still came rushing in, bombarding his brain. He could see his father bending over a drawing Lainfea had made, a few days after they had returned home. He could see the colour in his father's face disappear, and later he could hear him retch.

Legolas had seen the drawing as well; orcs beating his mother to death, while other orcs forced him to watch. He had felt sick too. Lainfea  
should have forgotten this. He had thought she had. He had thought she was too small to remember.

But she did.

He wondered if she knew it had been his fault too. He wondered how long it would take her to tell his father. How long it would take to hear his  
father vomit at his betrayal.

No, his father would not be sorry to see him fade. No one would be sorry to see him fade...once they found out.

* * *

Seven plus two.

She stared at the paper. Sigil, her tutor, had told her to make a story out of it if she didn't understand the sums.  
She tried.  
If there where seven orcs, and two more came around the corner, how manyorcs would you have to fight?

She thought about it. It all depended...

If you were smart, and there was a good hiding place, you wouldn't have to fight any. She stared at the paper again. The sum didn't say if there were good hiding places.

And it didn't say whether you were alone or not. If you were with your brothers and sister... you would probably have to fight one, maybe two before the fight was over.  
If you were alone your would have to fight them all...

Lainfea thought about it a long time. Then she suddenly saw the answer.

If you were alone...you could still only fight one or two!  
Because the orcs would catch you, hurt you, and take your weapons before anything else could happen.

The answer was one or two.. It had to be. If there wasn't a good hiding place.

She sighed. Doing sums always made the pictures come back.

* * *

Want to tell me your side of the story?" Thranduil asked his youngest son.  
Lanthir continued to stare angrily into the distance, his arms folded in front of chest.  
"Lanthir?" Thranduil asked.  
"No," Lanthir said without looking at his father.

Thranduil rubbed his temple.  
"Lanthir...If you truly hit those other boys, you will have to tell me why. There has to be a reason. Did they insult you? Or Legolas? Or the  
girls? Me?"  
"No," Lanthir repeated.  
"Then why did you hit them?"

Lanthir remained silent. 'Because I'm a monster,' he thought. 'I'm transforming into an orc.'

He didn't even remember what the boys had said... It just... they had been too happy. He had been sitting in the courtyard thinking about everything that had happened, and the boys had walked by and they had been too happy.

Lanthir had hated them for it. And then they had wished him "good morning" he had hit them. Nothing about the morning had been good.

He was a monster.

"If you don't tell me your side of the story I'm afraid you are grounded, Lanthir. You will stay inside your room for a week."  
"Fine," Lanthir said, got up, and walked away. He didn't protest against the senctence.  
'You should have locked me in the dungeons, old man. Can't you see the blackness of my soul?' he thought.  
"Lanthir!" his father called behind him. He didn't turn around.  
"Lanthir! If you do want to talk... If you... You know where to find me."

'If I wanted to talk about what?' Lanthir asked inwardly. 'About becoming an orc? No thank you. I'd prefer it if no one knew.'

He walked into the hallway without looking back.

* * *

TBC.

Again.. I don't have time to answer reviews.. i'm so sorry!


	6. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

Lainfea was drawing again. She was supposed to add things up, but there was a picture in the way. Her head didn't concentrate on the numbers. If she thought about numbers, she thought about counting, and if she thought about counting, she thought about killing orcs, and when she thought about orcs...

There were pictures in her head.

She drew another arm. And a head. Two legs. She picked up a yellow pencil, because it was her in the picture, and her hair was yellow.  
After she had drawn the hair she paused. The picture was almost finished.  
She picked up the red pencil. This pencil was much shorter than all the others. She had to use it a lot, in every picture.

She needed it for the mouths. Mouths were red. And for the blood. She always needed to draw lots and lots of blood.

Ada would have to give her a new red pencil soon.

* * *

She had buried herself in the library, surrounded by books. Most of the books where thrown aside without any thought as soon as she had noticed the book mentioned nothing about the things that were important to her now. 

Somewhere from deep down inside, she knew her mother would have hated it to see her precious books thrown across the library. Yet as much as Limloeth had loved and respected her mother, the girl couldn't care less now what her mother would think.  
Limloeth needed to find an answer.  
Soon.

She opened another volume and flipped through the pages. It was one of the most beautiful books she had ever seen, with thick paper, and beautiful coloured illustrations of almost every plant in Arda and their uses in the medical world.  
Normally, she would have been delighted by a book like this and bury herself in her room until she had learned it by heart.  
But today, she threw the book on the quickly growing pile of useless volumes. She didn't have time for her own interests; she needed to find a cure.

It would have to be somewhere; someone must have been able to find it. There were so many great books here written by famous elven healers. Why wasn't it there? It had to be there.

Another volume, another beautiful book, this one about all cures to all kinds of poisoning. All very interesting, yet the volume too landed on the useless pile.

She didn't need to cure poison. Nor bone fractures, battle wounds, or Morgul poison.

She needed to cure fading.  
But no matter how hard she looked, how many volumes she checked, with every book, the useless pile grew, and the her hope disappeared.

It seemed as if no one in the entire history of the elves had ever found one.  
Limloeth refused to accept that. She would find the cure. She would not fail.  
She grabbed another book from the shelf.

* * *

"Legolas?"  
Legolas sighed.  
Lanthir. If there was anyone he didn't want to see right now it was Lanthir.  
It was not that he hated his little brother. Actually he and Lanthir got along very well most of the time. It was just...he sighed. 

"Did Limloeth send you to talk to me?" He didn't want charity or pretended compassion. He wanted to be alone.

"Can I come in? I need to talk," his little brother answered.  
"Did she send you or not?" If Limloeth had, Legolas would barricade the door.  
"No," Lanthir said, annoyed. "Listen. I want to talk, brother. It is... Legolas?"  
"Lanthir?"

It was silent for a long time.

"I'm just so...scared." The words where spoken softly, almost too soft to hear. Legolas could hear that the fear in Lanthir's voice was real. His brother was not pretending; there was really something wrong.

Legolas closed his eyes. He was so tired and drained, and he just wanted to go to sleep.

"Legolas?" his little brother whispered, sounding not a day older than Lainfea.  
Legolas rubbed his temple and sighed.

"Come in," he said.

* * *

Thranduil caught himself staring at Elrond's letter again. 

Would the children really feel better in Imladris? Would they heal there if the had such trouble healing here?

He honestly didn't see what Elrond expected to be able to do. Why did the Noldo think he would be better at healing Thranduil's children than Thranduil himself?

The elvenking rubbed his temple. If only it was certain his children would heal in Rivendell. He wouldn't hestitate if it was certain the children would heal. Or if it was certain they would not heal in Greenwood.

Nothing was certain.

The elvenking covered his eyes with his hands, trying to think straight. If he decided to move the children to Imladris, was he not actually admitting Greenwood was dark and doomed? Was he not saying that he was a lesser person, that the Silvan elves where indeed more dangerous and less wise than the Noldor?

In a way, the elvenking had to choose between his children and his kingdom again.  
He could never allow the Greenwood elves to feel lesser than the Noldor or the Sindarin of Lorien and the Grey Havens.  
In order to remain in Greenwood, without an elven ring to protect them, the elves needed a certain pride. A belief that they were stronger than the other elves. Better archers, better fighters, no kinslayers, and never tricked by Sauron. The Silvan elves didn't need elven rings.

Except for the fact that maybe Thranduil's children did.

Thranduil stared at the letter again. He stared at it so intensely, that he failed to notice the soft footsteps that came closer to his door.

* * *

TBC.. 

(thank you every one that reviewed! I'm so glad that you still do..even though I can't seem to find the time to answer any of them. Thank you! It always makes my day!)


	7. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

Lanthir quietly opened the door. He had not seen his brother much since they had gotten home again. Both of the brothers had been trying to pick up their lives again at first; visiting old friends, trying to feel at home  
again.

Before they had been captured and transported to Mordor, Legolas and Lanthir had not been very close. Lanthir had been a child, while Legolas had been the older brother he was not allowed to play with. They had had seperate  
friends, seperate interests, and almost seperate lives. They only reason why they even knew each other was because, by coincidence, they were born to the same parents.  
But in Mordor both of them had grown up and grown together. The two of them had learned to rely on each other, to work as a team. To trust each other.  
In the journey home, they had perfected that.

He stepped into his brother's room. In the first few days after they returned from Mordor, the four siblings had slept close together, unwilling to leave each others' side. Lanthir didn't remember who moved away first, but somehow  
they had seperated later, all trying to fit back into their lives as fast as possible.

His brother was lying in his bed, and Lanthir was actually shocked to see how bad Legolas looked. He was so thin...and the dark rings under his eyes were bigger. Basically, apart from the clean clothes, Legolas looked as bad as when they just left Mordor.

And he thought he had problems.

He folded his arms against his chest and gave his older brother a glare.  
"What is the matter with you?" he demanded.

* * *

Legolas had watched his brother come in, waiting to learn what had caused his brother to knock on his door for support. Lanthir looked extremely bad, as if he had been fighting or something. His clothes were torn, he had scratches on his face, and he looked beaten. 

Yet when Lanthir noticed Legolas, he suddenly seemed to forget all about his own problems. It was almost like he changed from desparate to angry in a matter of seconds, from Lanthir to a young Thranduilion in a blink of an  
eye.

"What is the matter with you?"  
"Lanthir..." Legolas warned, his voice threatening. He really didn't want to dicuss his life now. He would listen to whatever problem Lanthir had, and help solve it as best as he could. Then be alone again. "You were going  
to tell me about a problem."

Lanthir shook his head. "No," he said. "That matters not. Tell me what is wrong with you."

Legolas watched his little brother; his broad shoulders, the tight line of his lips pressed together, the deadly glare... It was the warrior-Lanthir that stood before him now. Lanthir Thranuillion Oropherion. As headstrong as his ancestors.

"I'm fading." Legolas answered the question calmy, without a trace of regret.

"No you are not," Lanthir replied. It sounded more like an order than anything else.

"Yes, I am," Legolas said softly.  
Lanthir shook his head, but only once. "No," he said, quite determined. "I won't allow it."  
"You don't have anything to allow, Lanthir. And there is nothing you can do about it."  
"Watch me," Lanthir said in a low voice that was threatening and dangerous.  
"I am. You are not doing anything."  
For a moment Lanthir couldn't speak. He had never felt this angry, or hurt, his entire life. It took him a minute to remember how to breathe.  
When he finally found his words again, there was only one thing he could say that somehow covered his feeling of loss and anger.  
"I hate you!"  
"That is good," Legolas replied. "Then you won't miss me too much when I'm gone."

Lanthir stared at his older brother as he felt his anger rise. He wanted to punch Legolas; to knock the fading out of him; to hurt him so that his older brother could feel the pain he felt.

Yet he didn't. He struggled to regain control of himself again and just turned his back to Legolas.  
"You will not fade, brother," Lanthir said as he walked through the door again. "I will make sure of that."  
The tone of his voice almost made Legolas shiver. It was as if Lanthir threatened him. As if he promised something horrible.

And in a way it was, Legolas supposed. It was torture to stay alive, and by forcing him, Lanthir would do something really cruel.

With a sigh, the eldest brother dropped back on the bed. He was very relieved there was no way his siblings could stop him.

* * *

Limloeth was just about to stomp out of the library when Lanthir stormed in.  
Her little brother absolutely fumed. 

"What's wrong, Lanth?" she asked, bracing herself for the tirade.  
He shook his head and hissed something between his teeth. "I will stop him from fading. I swear I will."

So he had been talking to Legolas as well.  
"There is no cure in the books. I checked all the medical volumes," she said.  
"Did you check history? Myth?"  
She shook her head.  
"Then we will. You take myth."

* * *

Thranduil jumped about a meter in the air when he suddenly heard a soft knock on his door. 

For a few seconds he could not speak. He could only stare at the doorknob and hope. Legolas. His heart sang. Legolas had finally found the courage to speak.

Legolas trusted him again!  
The elvenking stared in triumph at Elrond's letter on his desk.  
'See!' Thranduil thought . "I can heal my children. I'm a good father.

I am a good father.'

"My lord?" he heard a voice on the other side of the door say. His heart sank and he felt completely completey defeated.

It wasn't Legolas.

"My lord?" the voice spoke again. It was Sigil, the tutor of his children. "My lord, you have to come! Your help is needed urgently! It is a disaster!"

* * *

_TBC!_


	8. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

"What are you doing?" Lainfea stood at the threshold of the library looking at her siblings surrounded by a large pile of books. "Are you reading fairytales?" she asked, moving closer to Lanthir, who didn't look up. She waved her hand in front of his face and added, "Will you read me one?"

Lanthir looked up from his books for only a split second as he pushed the hand away. "Go away, dwarf," he said grumpily. Lainfea smiled. "I'm not a dwarf, silly," she declared happily. "I am an elf. Look! I have pointy ears. See?"  
When Lanthir didn't look she placed her head upon the book he was reading.  
"See?" she asked again.  
Lanthir glared at her, and pulled the book out from under her. "Lainfea!" he said, annoyed. "I'm busy!"

The smile on Lainfea's lips faded. "You don't have time to talk to me?" she asked. The sadness in her voice made Lanthir look up. Over the top of her own book Limloeth gave her sister a worried glance as well.  
"Hey, little halfling," he said softly, forgetting all about Legolas for a minute as he pulled her to his lap.  
"I'm not a halfling." Lainfea sniffed. "I don't have hairy feet."  
Lanthir placed a kiss on top of her head. "Of course you don't, Lain. Of course you don't."

Over her head he glanced at Limloeth.  
His older sister seemed as surprised by the sadness as he had been.  
"Lain? Have you talked to Legolas?" Lanthir asked, wondering if that might have upset her, but the elfling ignored his question and snuggled closer to his chest. "Read me a story?"

Lanthir hesitated. He felt that Lainfea really needed the attention, but the quest for a cure for Legolas was more important.  
"I'm only reading dull books today, Lain. And so is Lim. Maybe you should get Ada to read you a story. Wouldn't that be fun?"  
Lainfea shook her head. "Ada reads only dull books all the time and he says 'go away.' And Legolas says 'go away.' And now you are saying 'go away' too. Everyone says 'go away.'" There were tears in her eyes again.

"Lain… I didn't mean you had to go, it is just… we are doing boring stuff here. You will get very, very bored. You see, we are going through all these books here because we are trying to find something."  
"Maybe you can help, Lain," Limloeth said softy.  
Lanthir gave his older sister a look as though she had gone insane. "Help? Lainfea?" he repeated.  
But the little elfling in his lap was smiling and nodding.  
"Yes!" she said with shining eyes. " I want to help."

Limloeth gave her little sister a smile. Of course Lainfea would help. She knew it was the right thing to do. Lainfea had been a bit lost and lonely ever since they had reached the palace.  
If they were to save Legolas, they would need her.

"You can check the fairytales section, Lain. We are searching for something to cure… you know what cure is, don't you?" Limloeth interrupted herself.  
The little girl nodded. "When someone makes a sickness better."  
Limloeth gave her little sister a smile. "Indeed! Well... we need something to cure fading. Do you know what fading is? When an elf is really sad and dies? We need to help that kind of elf. Do you think you could help us with that? Just look at the pictures and when you see a really sad elf or a really happy elf, let us know. Can you do that?"  
The elfling gave her elder sister a reassuring smile, and soon she too was pulling books from shelves.

* * *

"A disaster? Is something…? Is Lainfea…? My children?"  
Thranduil found it almost impossible to speak through the fear he was feeling. He could not lose his children again; his children could not be hurt.

If it had been possible, he would have ordered them never to be hurt again.

But Sigil was the childrens' tutor and he was supposed to be teaching Lainfea grammar at this hour.  
The elvenking noticed his hands were shaking.  
A part of him really didn't want to hear what the elf in front of him had to say.

Sigil took a deep breath. "My lord. I was taking your youngest daughter to the library, sir, to start her reading lessons, when..."

"Yes?" Thranduil asked, though he feared the answer.

"Your wife's entire collection, sir. They are thrashing it about. All those beautiful books will be ruined, milord, unless you put a halt to it. Please, milord. I know you said to let your children do as they please in order to heal, but, please, but an end to it. Please."

* * *

"This might be useful," Lanthir said out loud. "Maedhros. He was hung off of a cliff by Morgoth yet he survived and lived many years after. It doesn't say how he did it though."  
Limloeth looked up from the book she was currently reading. "Maedhros was a kinslayer. "  
"So?"  
Limloeth shrugged. "Maybe the Noldor have fewer emotions than we do. Maybe they don't have as many feelings. How else could they have hurt other elves?  
Could you imagine ever hurting another elf?"

Her youngest brother paled and looked away. Of course he could. Had he not been in a fight earlier? Had he not beaten two other boys? He could understand wanting to hurt others very well. He was a monster; he could hurt anybody.

But he could never let anybody know what he was, and so he shook his head.  
"No, I could not," he whispered softly, hating himself for lying as well.  
He could here the orcs laugh in the back of his mind.

Behind the two of them Lainfea was softy trying to read books as well. She could not yet read silently, but still had to read every single letter out loud.  
"A-n… an-d… And. T-h… th-e-the-y. They. And they. L-I… li-v-liv-e-live. Lived. And they lived… h-a- ha-p-p…. Happ-i-happy-l-happil-y. And they lived happily..."

"Ever after," Lanthir concluded the sentence for his sister. "Fairy tales always end like that. You don't hade to actually read the last sentence; it is always the same."  
People in fairytales never turned into monsters after the story had ended.  
Nor did the heroes fade after they had succeeded their journey.

Lainfea looked down at the book of fairytales, seeming a bit disappointed.  
"It never says how?" she asked, just to be sure.  
"How what, Lain?" Limloeth asked.  
"How to live happily ever after?"

Limloeth pushed a pile of books aside and moved out of her corner, so she could give her little sister a hug. "No," she said, when she had wrapped her arms around the elfling. "It never says how."

The little girl opened the book again and stared at the pictures with tears in her eyes.  
"Fairytales are stupid, are they not?"

Limloeth honestly didn't know what to answer to that.

* * *

TBC

Btw.. Thanks to everyone who reviewed! 


	9. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

Thranduil stormed through the halls of his palace, slamming the doors open as he moved toward the library as fast as he could.  
They were trashing his wife's collection, Sigil had said. Lalaith's precious books, the only thing that had been really hers, not theirs, as he cared nothing for medical volumes and he had always refused to see what use they would have to somebody who wasn't really a healer anyway.

And no matter how hard she studied, both Lalaith and Thranduil would always be fighters first.

The memory of Lalaith made Thranduil shiver, but he swallowed and tried to stop himself from crying. Kings didn't cry. They were strong leaders  
without fear or weakness. They did not cry.

It was useless to hold on to the past, as he couldn't change it. The dead were dead, and if he just didn't think about her, forget she had even existed...then maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. Maybe he would feel whole again.

He didn't see any other way to hold on. Somehow, Lalaith had always been his strength. With her by his side, he had nothing to fear. She would laugh, hug him, dance with him, and make all the bad things vanish, as if they had never really existed. She would mock him for his weakness and make him laugh about himself.

But she was dead.  
And every lovely memory he had ever had about her caused him great pain now.

Still...he had to save her books. She had loved them so much. She had smiled so brightly when he had given them to her, and he could not let them be destroyed.  
He would save them, in memory of her. The last thing he would do for his beloved wife.

When he reached the library, he stopped and took a deep breath once more, trying to calm himself. He wiped the tears off his cheeks and straightened his shoulders.For a while he just stood there on the threshold, while he gathered the power to speak without crying.

He stared at the books on the floor, carelessly thrown aside. He stared at the hundreds of volumes, piled up on the dirty floor, and he stared at his children in the middle of the mess.

"WHAT," He thundered once he had found his voice, "is going ON here?"

* * *

Legolas lay curled up on his bed, safe inside a little cocoon he had created from his blankets. He stuck his thumb into his mouth and tried  
to pretend that he was just a small boy again, and that there was nothing in the world he needed to fear.

But he couldn't do it. No matter how small he made himself, he could never go back to the time he had believed his father was the strongest elf in the world, and that he would protect him from all evil. Legolas had seen horrors he could not forget, and an evil with power far greater than his father could ever defeat.  
Greater than anyone could defeat.

To Legolas, Middle Earth was already lost, and to stay here would only cause him greater pain in the end.  
His task was done; his siblings were home. He had done all he could for them. They didn't need him anymore.  
And so he was free to leave, to find his way out.  
The shortest way to Valinor without a ship.

* * *

Thranduil could never have expected the impact his shouting would have on his three youngest children. They made themself as small as they could and froze all movements, thus reminding Thranduil of the way small animals hid from a predator.  
Three pairs of eyes stared at the elven king, following all his movements.

Thranduil cursed himself when he saw the tears that were welling up in Lainfea's eyes. His youngest was already having difficulties trusting him. Did he really have to make it worse every single time they met?

Suddenly Thranduil cared nothing more for his late wife's precious books.

He kneeled in front of his children, so their eyes were at the same level.

"I'm sorry," the elven king said softly. "I did not mean to startle you. I am not angry. I just wanted - "  
"Legolas is dying," Lanthir interrupted his father.  
The breath was sucked out of Thranduil's body.

"Ex... Excuse me?"  
" We do not have time for speeches. Legolas is dying. We need to find a cure."  
"Legolas is..?" Thranduil could not believe it.  
His son was safe. Legolas had survived twenty years of slavery in Mordor, and he had survived the dangerous journey home.

How could his son be dying now?

"He is fading, Adar," Limloeth said softly. "He is just giving up. I'm suspecting it has something to do with the darkness of Greenwood now.  
He had not expected he would have to live in darkness forever."

Thranduil winced. He was the king of the elven realm. He should have kept the darkness at bay. It was all his fault.

"I'm sorry," He whispered. "I should have...I.."  
"We do not have time to be sorry," Lanthir interrupted again.

Thranduil stared at his son.  
"And it is pretty useless," Lanthir added with a grin. "If you want to force Legolas to stay, help us. We are searching these books untill we find something."

Thranduil swallowed. He was trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, but somehow it felt like he had to swallow something heavier.  
It felt as if he literally had to swallow his pride.

"The cure for fading is not in these books." He spoke softly as he got to his feet again. "But we are going to find it. Pack your bags, we are  
leaving!"

Limloeth and Lanthir glanced at each other.  
"Where are we going?" Limloeth asked softly while she continued to hold onto her book.

"Rivendell," Thranduil answered with great pain evident in his voice. "Lord Elrond must know."

_TBC.._

_Isiliel.. I do not write this chapters with you in mind.. I don't do anything deliberately.. I just imagined that is how the three of them would see the Noldor..  
And the one that asked me not to take them to Rivendell.. sorry I have forgotten your name.. and I have very little time to check.. But I promise you this will not be a "Ship them all to Rivendell and lets have a happy ending fic."They will have A LOT of problems there... and end up at home of course.. :-)  
_

_Everyone else.. Love you all for reviewing..:-)_

Greetz Liek 


	10. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

"Wake up!"  
The voice was getting harder and harder to ignore, as the owner of it was not only speaking rather loudly but jumping on his bed as well.  
"Wake up, Legolas, wake up!"  
He knew that it was useless to keep pretending to be asleep, for he was almost positive that Lainfea knew he was only pretending, and that she had already decided she would be as annoying as was physically possible.  
But he didn't want to surrender to her just yet. He wouldn't yield.  
The young elf tried to turn is head away from the noise, in a way that was realistic enough for him to still appear asleep.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake UP!"

Somewhere deep down, in some obscure hidden place that wasn't completely annoyed, he had to admit he admired his little sister's stamina. He knew that, had he been the one pounding on the bed, he'd have given up a long time before now.

Then, suddenly the shouting, as well as the jumping on the bed stopped, and an ominous silence filled the room.  
Legolas had longed for that silence ever since his youngest sibling had sneaked into his bedroom almost two hours ago.

But the abruptness of it was unnerving.  
It was as if his sister had disappeared suddenly, as if she had been snatched out of existence. For the last two hours Legolas had wished repeatedly that Lainfea had never been born, but he had not truly wanted his request granted.  
What had happened? Where had Lainfea gone?  
He had not heard her leave.

Slowly, ever so slowly he blinked one time to clear his vision and moved his eyes.  
For as far as he could see, the room was empty.

* * *

King Thranduil stared at the blank paper him front of him, still prolonging the moment he had to pick up his quill and write his defeat.  
Or not just his defeat, but the defeat of all Silvan healers, as well as the admittance that his forest that had once been Greenwood the Magnificent was now nothing more than Mirkwood, a dark name for a dark place, and that he, the elvenking, had been to weak to reverse this process.

Had it been his own life at stake, he would never have written these words.  
But it was not his life that was threatened, but that of one of the four more dear to him than all other lives of the world combined together, so he dipped his pen into the ink and began to write.

'Lord-'

The first word, though only four letters, was the hardest he had ever written. It was almost as if his quill itself resisted the strokes he tried to make with it. When he looked at the word, Thranduil was actually surprised  
that the result of his writing was legible.

'Lord Elrond,

You were right.  
My child is dying.  
We shall submit to your care.

Thranduil.'

The elvenking doubted that the letter was even remotely polite or useful to the Lord of Imladris, but he just didn't know what else to say. It was as if every word he wrote cut a hole into his soul and he wanted to keep the damage down to a minimum.

Mirkwood's ruler bound his downfall to the leg of one of the messenger birds and sighed.  
"Just get this to Rivendell," he mumbled softly. "And fast."

* * *

Limloeth stared at the closet in front of her, trying to start packing.  
Trying to select, out of all the items she had, those special useful items that she could not be without on this journey.

The only trouble was, that in the years she had spent in Mordor, she had learned two things.

The first was that every item could be useful.  
The second was that you could do without almost anything.

She sighed and closed the door of the closet. In spite if the fact that she was a healer in nature, there was only one thing she could think of that was really and truly necessary.  
Weapons.

Lots and lots of weapons.

* * *

Legolas strained to hear any sound in the room, hoping to hear the breathing of his little sister, so he would know she was still alive, without giving away that he was actually awake.  
But there were no soft footsteps to be heard, nor quiet breathing.

The room was as quiet at he had wished it to be not too long ago.

"Lainfea?" he asked softly, giving up pretending.  
There was no answer.  
"Lainfea!" he said again, much louder now, but still his call was met by only silence.

For a few seconds he feared that the Valar had granted his request, and that he was now forever without the sister he had loved.  
"LAINFEA!" It was a cry more than a call this time as the despair of his heart slipped into his voice, quickly followed by a cry of physical pain as something landed, with it's full weight, on his chest.

* * *

TBC

Rutu.. for more info on the teitho chalange.. check http/teithoDOTwakingvisionDOTcom


	11. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

"BOO!" Lainfea shouted as she landed. She immediately started wiggling all over him searching for places where he could be tickled.  
"You were scared where you not, you were, I saw it! Admit that you were scared! I scared you... you didn't know where I was and you were listening... but I kept my breath and I didn't laugh, though I wanted to... I kept really, really quiet and I scared you!"  
Her little fingers moved quickly over his armpits and his sides.

But Legolas was too worn out to react to them in his normal ticklish way.  
He didn't even feel relieved to see that his little sister was still there, still alive and unhurt.  
All he felt was rage, a blind heartless rage.  
How dare she scare him like this? How dare she?  
Had he not always looked after her? Had he not kept her safe and sheltered all the years she had lived?

Had he not stood between her and the orcs' whips for as long as his back had allowed it every single year in Mordor? Had he not deserved his peace and quiet by now? What more could she want of him?  
"LAINFEA!" he thundered.

Her fingers stopped all movement and she stared at him with large eyes. Legolas recognized that look. He had seen it before, though not directed at him. It was a strange combination of fear and courage. A look that told him that she feared him, but would not obey him just the same.  
It pained his heart to see that she was now looking at him his way and it angered him even more.  
She had no right to fear him. He was her protector. He had never caused her pain. All he asked of her was to leave him alone.

"Lainfea, I do not want you here. I wish to be alone."  
The child on his chest shook her head and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I'm not going."  
"Yes you are."  
"I brought you strawberries," the child said, still in the same position, sitting on his chest, glaring.  
"I am not hungry."  
"I am not moving."  
"Alright, stay there!"  
"Fine."  
"Fine."  
"Fine!"  
"FINE!"

The elfling kept her word. She stayed on her brother's chest, her eyes arms folded and her eyes glaring steadily at Legolas, while her brother did his best to ignore her and tried to sleep.

It was a silent battle of wills fought between two of the most stubborn elves Middle Earth had seen in a long time. They stayed in the same position for nearly two hours, the eldest lying in bed pretending to sleep and the youngest on top of him, as motionless as she could be, both of them determined to win.

It was Legolas who gave in first. He was exhausted before he had started this fight and he needed the energy he used on Lainfea now to fight his other siblings later, as he was certain Lanthir and Limloeth would try to keep him on Middle Earth for as long as they could.

"What do I have to do to get you to go away?" he snapped finally after two hours of silence, yielding to his little sister.  
She gave him a brilliant smile.  
"You have to eat my strawberries," she said delighted.  
"I'm not hungry," he answered grumpily.

The little girl shrugged. "I'll wait until you are."

She shifted her weight a little to a position that crushed even more of Legolas ribs.  
Her brother sighed and surrendered.

* * *

"There. I have eaten them. You can go."  
Lainfea lightly shook her head and pointed at one strawberry that had fallen off the plate on the bed.

Legolas furiously snatched it off the bed and stuffed it into his mouth while he gave is sister one of the glares his bloodline was famous for. That glare was famous for making the ones it was directed at cower  
away, but Lainfea was immune to it.

She just smiled sweetly and waited until he had swallowed.

"Now you can go," Legolas snapped at her once he had done so, but his sister still didn't move and pointed at the cup of water that had stood beside the plate of strawberries.  
"I brought you water as well."

Her brother did not even take the trouble to argue with her anymore. He got up as far as the elfling sitting allowed and emptied the cup in one swift motion.

After that he knew nothing more.

* * *

He had been waiting for ages just outside the door, until his little sister would come and get him, pacing back and forth, hoping she would succeed.

It took her a long time, but Lanthir knew that could be caused by the stubbornness of their victim, and he would not worry until an entire day would have passed, as he trusted on Lainfea's abilities.

His little sister was able to drive anyone crazy enough to do her bidding within a day.

Though he had waited what seemed like hours and hours waiting for the door to open, he was surprised when it finally did.

"Lainfea," he said, a little out of breath.  
His youngest sister smiled. "I did it, I did it!"  
"Did he drink all of it?"  
She nodded. "All."  
Her older brother reached down and pulled her into a hug. "Well done, little one! Now go and get Ada!"

* * *

_TBC.._

Thank you .. for your nice reviws.. and erhmm we want more! we want more:-)

untill the next one..

Bye!

Liek


	12. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11_

Thranduil bent over the unconscious form of his eldest son and felt his forehead worriedly.  
"Are you sure this was necessary?" he asked the boy standing beside him.

Lanthir shrugged. "There are other ways to get Legolas to do something he does not wish to do. Even the orcs were smart enough to figure them out.

But they involve a lot of whip strikes and beating. The best way is to hurt someone Legolas cares about and promise to stop when he obeys. That it the fastest way to get results.  
But even then he keeps his eyes open for opportunities to stop doing whatever he is ordered to do as soon as his loved ones are safe.

So there are other methods. I just figured you would prefer this one. "

The tone of Lanthir's voice had changed, from somewhat angry to a monotone voice that showed no emotions. To a stranger, it could have seemed that Lanthir cared nothing about the torture he was speaking of.

But Thranduil recognized that tone, because he had heard it before. It was the voice his own father had used if he had been hurt. Oropher had spoken that way if he was trying to hide his emotions. Thranduil himself spoke that way if he way trying to hide his emotions, and Lanthir was no different.

The elven king remembered the scars on the back of his youngest son when they had just gotten home and knew Lanthir was not speaking of some hypothetical situation of what could have happened. His youngest son was telling him something, just a little bit of the things that had happened to him during their long absence for the first time.

He placed a hand on the young boy's shoulder. "You did well, Lanthir. You are right, This is the best way to get Legolas to come along. I was wrong to have questioned your methods."

Lanthir shook his head as he stared at his brother's pale and unconscious form.  
He shivered.  
"No...you were not." In a whisper, he added "I'd have done the same."

* * *

The two sisters stood beside each other staring at the horses.  
"They are very big," Lainfea whispered, her eyes wide.  
"You will do just fine, Lain," Limloeth said, placing a comforting hand on her little sister's shoulder. "They understand Elvish; they will listen to you. There is nothing to fear."  
"Not like wargs? "  
Limloeth gave her a sad but comforting smile. "Horses are nothing like wargs. That is a promise. You will do just fine." 

Their father appeared, with Lanthir behind him and Legolas in his arms.  
"Ready?" he asked the two girls while he placed Legolas on a horse and jumped behind him.

Limloeth watched her younger sister still staring at the horses and bent closer.  
"Nothing like wargs," she whispered in Lainfea's ear again while she gave her sister a little push in the direction of the horses.  
"Ready," she answered her father.

* * *

While all her family members got onto their horses Lainfea moved slowly towards her own.  
It was really big. Really, really big.  
But nothing like a warg. Her sister had promised that. 

"Hello," the elfling said softly. Though Limloeth said that horses could understand Elvish, it did not answer her.  
The little girl shifted her weight uncomfortably.  
"You have to take me to Imladris, my Ada said so." The horse still gave no indication to have heard.  
"I have to be on your back. Please?"

"Lainfea! Get on your horse!" Thranduil wanted to get this journey and the humiliation over with as soon as possible.  
"I can't!" the little girl protested, almost in tears. She wanted to do this right. She wanted to be a nice elfling that listened to her father and obeyed him, so he could proud of her.  
But the horse was really, really, really big, and she just didn't know how.

"Come on," Lanthir said while he jumped off his horse and picked Lainfea up off the ground. "You can ride in front of me, okay?"

* * *

They rode trough the trees at high speed, knowing that they would have to keep moving until they were out of the forest.  
Thranduil had refused any patrol to guide him, as he knew that his forest would need his warriors in absence of its king. Mirkwood had grown too dark to miss any of its fighters for long, and so he was traveling with his children only.  
And though they gave their enemy the opportunity to wipe the entire royal family of Mirkwood out in one single strike, Thranduil was counting on stealth more than on power, on speed more then on anything else. 

The elvenking glanced sideways at his children when an open space in to woods allowed him to do so. He could see the looks on their faces. They all were determined to make it, concentrating on nothing but the trees in front of them and the path they had to take.

Suddenly Limloeth's face changed form concentrated to grim.  
"Ada, Lanthir," she hissed, and pointed at a point behind the trees.  
"Nazgul!"

* * *

TBC

I just love Mirkwood.. There isa monster behind every tree for me to play with EVIL grin) ;-)


	13. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12_

The dark cloaked figure hidden behind the trees spotted them the exact moment that they spotted him, and the being turned his empty hood towards the elvenking.

Though its face was not visible, Thranduil was sure the Nazgul was smiling.  
He could feel it. Fear spread though his body, and the elvenking felt cold.  
He had no weapons against it, for the elvenking had very little of the elvish magic that kept wraiths at bay.  
Lalaith had been the one to do that.

Where was Lalaith when he needed her?

"Move," her voice spoke softly behind him, as an echo from the past.  
He shivered.  
"Come on, Ada! Move!" No, not her voice, but Limloeth's.

Thranduil looked over his shoulder at his children. Limloeth was the only one smart enough to have turned her horse around.  
Lanthir stared at the wraith like it was staring at him. His face was pale and he had a knife ready, though his eyes showed he knew it was useless.  
Lainfea looked simply small. Her face was pale to a level it was almost blue.

He moved his horse towards hers and stroked some of her hair out of her face. Over his shoulder he glanced at the Nazgul. The dreaded creature was still waiting as if they were defeated already.  
"You need not worry." Thranduil turned his attention to his youngest again.  
"All will be alright, little one. You will come to no harm." He used the softest voice he had, the voice he used only with his children, and rarely even with them.

"Limloeth." His daughter responded to the tone of his voice immediately.  
Thranduil looked back at the wraith again and swallowed when he noticed  
another one had appeared next to it.  
"Take Legolas."

His daughter glared at him suspiciously, ready to open her mouth to protest.  
"No time for discussions! Take your brother!" He spoke with his kingly voice now. The voice he used to get what he wanted. And it always worked.  
Within moments, Legolas was placed in front of his sister, unconscious still.  
Thranduil check if he was seated alright for one last time and nodded to himself.

There were three Nazgul now, all waiting for the elves to move first, as they let their terror hang in the air. The elvenking could hear them speaking to each other; their foul language was polluting his forest.

And suddenly all fear departed the elvenking's body, and he was filled with rage. How dare they? How dare they come here, to_ his_ forest, and ruin what he had worked so long to build? How dare they scare his children?

"Listen , Lim, Lanth. When I give the signal, you will ride to Imladris.  
Don't stop, do not look back. Understand?"  
"But - " Lanthir was ready to protest.  
"_Understand_?" Thranduil repeated urgently. The ringwraiths had started moving in their direction.  
"No," Lanthir said. "We are_ not_ leaving you."

"Yes you are!" The voice of Thranduil sounded cold as ice, as panic was taking him over again.

His children had to leave. They had to escape.  
He had made a promise to Lainfea that she would be save.  
He had promised to himself that Legolas would make it.  
And the Elvenking always kept his promises.

But Lanthir and Limloeth stayed where they were, as their stubbornness was  
still stronger then their fear of the wraiths.  
It was probably stronger then the foundations of the earth as well, Thranduil thought, defeated.  
But then he got an idea.

And when he spoke again, he commanded not his children, but their horses.  
And as neither one of the horses was even remotely related to his father, both of them sprang forward immediately.

The elvenking let out a sigh of relief as he watched his children gallop away. The horses they were on knew him, but had forgotten who his children were, and he figured his children would not be able to stop them until they where a good distance away.  
Away from the wraiths.

Thranduil turned around and drew his weapons.  
None of those hideous creatures would be anywhere near his children.  
He would make sure of that.

* * *

"STOP!" Lanthir was shouting as his horse carried him away from his father at full speed. "STOP YOU STUPID, STUPID HORSE!"  
"Lanthir..."  
"Not now, Lain. STOP, YOU VALAR FORSAKEN ANIMAL!"  
"I don't want to be riding anymore. I'm scared."  
"We will soon stop riding, Lain, AS SOON AS I CAN GET THIS_ MULE_ TO _STOP_!" 

Limloeth checked the scene form her own horse. "Mine doesn't listen to me either," she said softly. "I'm thinking they are simply too frightened by the Nazgul. But maybe it is a good thing they run so fast. Maybe they can outrun the wraiths."  
"We don't need to get away from the wraiths; we need to get _to _them."  
Limloeth stared at him. "What are you, stupid? We need to get Legolas to Imladris, as fast as we can."

"But first we need to get Ada away from the Nazgul!" Lanthir answered stubbornly and yelled at his horse again.  
"Ada is sacrificing himself, so we can save Legolas, you troll!"  
"I DON'T CARE! I WON'T LET HIM! I WILL NOT BE MADE AN ORPHAN BY THREE BLACK.. BLACK.._SHEETS_!"  
"AND HOW DO YOU EXPECT TO SAVE HIM, HUH?"  
"I DON"T KNOW! MAYBE YOU COULD MAGIC SOMETHING!"  
"YOU CAN JUST EXPECT ME TO JUST MAGIC …

"QUIET!

Stop screaming, both of you." A voice interrupted their  
bickering.  
"You are scaring Lainfea, and probably attracting all spiders towards this point."

* * *

_TBC_


	14. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13_

The three siblings stared at their eldest brother, while their horses continued to take them farther away from their father.

Legolas seemed to notice something was not right about their ongoing movement, because before he did anything else, he ordered the horses to stop, and because they recognized either Legolas' voice or the commanding tone he used, the horses actually listened and came to a halt.

Lanthir slid off his horse quickly, before it could have second thoughts, and Lainfea was quick to follow.

Once he was safe on the ground without any chance he would be taken further to a place he did not want to go, Thranduil's youngest son looked up at his brother.

"You are awake?" he asked with a look of both disbelief and awe on his face.  
"Obviously," Legolas answered in a dry voice.  
"That was an entire goblet full of enchanted stream-water we gave you. We expected you would be down for three months!"

Limloeth snorted. "Lanthir…" she said in a tone that sounded just a little too sweet. "Remember how I added an effect to the river water that, besides putting our victim asleep, it would also ensure that he would not remember how it had happened, as he would have forgotten everything in the moments leading up to when he took the took the drug?"  
She did not wait for their brother, but her voice changed. "Well you just undid that effect."  
Legolas glared at his siblings.  
"You don't have to look a me that way..." Lainfea protested. "I didn't do any-"  
"I have forgotten nothing," Legolas interrupted her dryly.  
Lainfea hid herself in Lanthir's arms as fast as she could.  
"But we will discuss it later," Legolas continued.

"Legolas we are sorry, but we were trying to-" Limloeth started, but her older brother raised his hand.  
"I said, we will discuss it later. Now, fill me in on what has happened.  
Where are we going? Don't we have some sort of escort? Warriors? Why is it just the four of us?"

Limloeth took a deep breath, and steadied herself on the horse, as if she got ready for a big storm.  
"We are going to Imladris."  
"Why?" Legolas' voice had sounded not as if he hadn't understand the reason, but more as if he was trying to tell Limloeth off for something.  
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHY?" The tone Legolas had used, even though directed at his sister, was the fastest way to get on Lanthir's nerves. "BECAUSE YOU WERE ACTING LIKE AN IDIOT, ALL… ALL READY TO END IT AND TALKING ABOUT VALINOR AND LEAVING AND ALL… YOU BIG… STUPID…" For a few seconds Lanthir was lost for words. "WE ARE NOT LETTING YOU GO!" he concluded finally.

"Lord Elrond is an expert healer," Limloeth added. "Ada figured he would be ble to help you."  
"And so we are dragging you to Imladris, whether you like it or not, so you had better get used to the idea." Lanthir took over again. "That is...right after we get Ada back here with us."

"Lanthir...for the last time...we can't fight them."  
"Can."  
"Can't."  
"CAN!"  
Within seconds, Limloeth and Lanthir were back at each other, continuing the fight they had had only moments ago, as if they were never interrupted.

Legolas, seeing how impossible it was to get any information out of any of them for the moment rolled his eyes and slid off his horse, and then droppedhimself next to Lainfea with a deep sigh.

"They will always be like this," the twenty-year-old said sadly.  
"What?" Legolas asked her, not understanding what she meant to say.  
"If you really left," the elfling added. "Lanthir and Limloeth would always be like this. And I would always have to be silent."  
"I don't know Lain..." Legolas said uneasily; his little sister had somehow said the words that had made him feel a little guilty of his plans. Almost as if he was abandoning her.  
"They both want to be the boss. But if you are here...you are the boss, so they don't have to fight all the time. They are nicer if you are here."

The feelings of guilt in Legolas' stomach grew, and he desperately searched for a way out of this conversation. Lainfea just had the amazing ability of being too painfully honest sometimes.

"Where is Ada, anyway?" he asked, not really expecting a useful answer from someone so small, but he was just trying to steer the conversation to somewhat safer ground.

"Still with the scaries," the elfling whispered, sounding even more miserable than she had before, trembling slightly at the memory. A dark feeling crept into Legolas' heart.. He knew his little sister was not easily scared, not after thinking orc-torture was a daily routine for the first 19 years of her life.  
"The scaries?" he repeated softly.  
"They are going to kill him," she said. "Limloeth is not letting us help."

The child fell silent after that, lost in the sadness of her thoughts and unable to find words to tell her elder brother exactly what happened. She had not understand exactly what had attacked her father, she had just known it was bad.

Legolas watched his little sister rip out grass sprites in frustration while he wondered what exactly she had meant. "Scaries..." he muttered softly to himself, while a cold shiver swept up his spine.

"… AND IF YOU THINK - IF YOU BELIVE FOR ONE SECOND THAT YOU CAN FREE ADA FROM NAZGUL, YOU-"

Legolas sprang up as if he had been stung by bees. "NAZGUL? ADA IS BEING ATTACKED BY _NAZGUL?_!  
WHY ARE WE STILL HERE?  
LAINFEA! GET OVER HERE!  
LANTHIR! ON YOUR HORSE!  
LIMLOETH! WE NEED A FIRE! NOW!"

All Legolas' thoughts on leaving for Valinor were temporarily banned from his mind.

* * *

tbc 


	15. Chapter 14

_Chapter 14_

They had him surrounded.  
He could feel their darkness reaching out towards him; he could feel the darkness they spread, the potency of it almost robbing him of breath.  
He knew this was the end, that he was going to die.  
He could feel it in the air.

"Thranduil…" It was the nearest Nazgul that spoke. His voice sounded unnatural, cold as death.  
So, they knew who it was they had defeated. He guessed the Dark lord would be pleased.  
For a second Thranduil almost grinned by his vision of a evil presence on a throne singing a drunken sound of celebration.

He nodded.

He would not hide who he was, not anymore. "Aye, I am Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm."  
The king raised his sword and looked at the Nazgul's shadowed faces.

He would not die a coward.

* * *

"Limloeth, hurry!" Legolas snapped at his sister, glaring in her general direction while he put Lainfea on his horse and jumped behind her.  
"I CAN'T!" she shouted back, sounding very annoyed.  
"What do you mean, you can't?" Legolas snapped back. He had no time for his sister's fears right now. He could understand she was not happy to fight; he had always understood that.  
And he could understand it that she feared the Nazgul more than orcs. But right now, he was too tensed to understand her. He knew that she was terrified, but he did not see why that should stop her from doing her job.  
After all, he, Lanthir and Lainfea where terrified as well and they were moving.

"I can't make a fire when I am on horseback, you idiot! I'm a healer, not a sorcerer!" she snapped.  
"NANA COULD!" he shouted back. His mother had been able to make a fire anywhere, at any time. He had expected Limloeth's power's to be the same.

"WELL I AM NOT NANA!" she shouted back. "And I if I am to make a fire I will have to use flint and iron, straw and wood like everybody else, AND figure out a way to take it with, SO LET ME WORK ON IT IN PEACE AND IF YOU  
CAN't, THEN JUST TRY AND FADE AGAIN, FOR YOU WERE A MUCH MORE PLEASANT PERSON WHEN YOU WERE!"

She gasped, paled and shook her head. "I did not mean that," she said with fear in her eyes. "I'm sorry Legolas - I -"

Legolas did not look at her.

"I'll make a fire. I'll do it fast." She spoke with a shivering voice, but he still did not answer.

* * *

Limloeth tried to get the fire ready as fast as she could, but her hands  
were shaking and tears where blocking her view.

She felt as if she had never been angrier in her life.  
Angry at Lanthir, with his stupid plans and his stupid faith in himself.  
Fight Nazgul! Was she the only sane one in this family?  
She was angry at Legolas for trying to leave and acting like he had a right to, and then all of a sudden taking command all again, as if it was normal that he should be in charge...that arrogant...horrible…  
She was even angry at Lainfea, for being too small to be helpful.

Her hands started shaking even more.

She was angry at the wood for not cooperating and still not burning.

But most of all she was angry at herself.  
Legolas was right. Their mother had been able to do more magic than just healing, and more then that, she had been strong, never afraid and ready to fight anyone.

And even though everyone said that she was much like her mother, she knew it was not true.  
She was afraid.  
She was afraid she couldn't fight, and she wasn't even able to light a stupid fire when they needed her too.  
A tear fell on the wood and she hated herself even more.

'Sure,' she told herself inwardly. 'Wet the wood, so it will burn even less! As if you weren't useless enough already!'  
She picked up the flint and steel and tried and tried again.

"Here," the voice of her little brother said softly from behind her. "Let me try that, sis."  
He moved next to her and held up his hand. Limloeth gratefully handed him the steel without a word.  
She hoped he would not notice the tears in her eyes.

"You are right, you know…" Lanthir said softly as he left the fire be for a  
while and placed his hand lightly on his sister's shoulder. "We probably can't fight Nazgul. I know that...Legolas knows that as well, and I am sure even Lainfea noticed…it is just...I...

"Well, we only have one Ada, and - and if he dies - if he dies..."

Lanthir looked away and started to hit the flint . Sparks were flying.

"If he dies we never get another one," he said softly. "And I couldn't live with myself if I hadn't at least tried to rescue him,"  
Lanthir said as the sparks set fire to the straw, and the flames reached for  
the wood.

"So," he said softly, and she looked up to meet his eye. "I'm sorry to have yelled at you; you were right. But it changes nothing. We are still trying to save Ada."

Legolas stood apart from the others, leaning against the tree trying to pretend he was not there . If Limloeth didn't want him to be there, then fine. He would not be there.  
If she wanted him to leave, well… he had been leaving anyway. She would get her wish then!  
He glared at the place his eldest sister was sitting and his anger disappeared.  
He could see her shoulders shaking.

Lanthir had seen it too.  
His little brother moved towards their sister and spoke softly, as Legolas  
moved closer to hear what they said.

Legolas nodded.

"Lanthir is right, Lim," he said quietly. "We will try it anyway.  
We are just...I am just hoping we do not have to try it without you. Ada needs you, Lim. He needs the four of us."

"The four of us?" she repeated, almost mockingly.

Legolas swallowed, as h realised they were no longer talking about _her _now.  
Silence reigned for a long time.

"The four of us," he then repeated, almost inaudible.

But Limloeth heard it and she smiled.  
She knew, they both knew, that Legolas had just promised her he would no longer try to fade.

* * *

TBC (honesty :))

Liek


	16. Chapter 15

_Chapter 15_

The cloaked creature lifted his head, wishing it still had a mouth of his own to smile down at the poor defeated king at his feet.  
His master would be pleased, yes very pleased, with the Nazgul's catch of today, for this one had been given him much trouble. The poor crumbling elf at their feet had been the light that kept the darkness away for centuries.  
A light so bright it had hurt the Nazgul just to look at him, and a light that had kept Thranduil safe for so long.

Now that light had faded.  
What was left of it was the shivering form of a broken elven king.

"Thranduil…" the Nazgul spoke, and he could see the elvenking cringe.  
"Thranduil," the others repeated the word, chanting it like a mantra. The elf reacted to the name as if it was stabbed with many swords each time the name was called, and the Nazgul wished for a smile again.

Then suddenly something soft hit the Nazgul's protected shin.  
"Stop it!" it ordered as it hit again.

The Nazgul looked down at the small but bright light that appeared out of nowhere, hurting what could be called his eyes.  
"Stop it!" The being was incredibly small, but did not stop its useless attemps to kick the only part it could reach - his legs.  
"Stop it!" it demanded again, and the Nazgul bent down to get a better understanding of what this new threath really was.

Stop it, you.. you…Meany!" The Nazgul reached out his hand to touch the small being, and at that moment his cloak caught fire from behind.

* * *

Legolas lifted the torch again as the first ringwraith burned and suddenly realized that, though he and Lainfea had brought the first one down, things were not going as they had hastily planned.

It was as if time had somehow compressed itself and the journey back to here  
had passed too fast. There had been no time to properly plan their attack,and all that was decided was that Lainfea should distract the Nazgul while Legolas would sneak in with the burning fire from behind.

Lanthir and Limloeth were to stay behind, out of sight, with the one bow they had found in their saddlebags and another quickly made torch, so they would be able to shoot burning arrows, though there had been no time to speak through the details.

And now he stood there one not yet full grown elven boy accompanied by an even smaller elven girl. Together they had brought one Nazgul down, but they had lost their element of surprise and the only weapon they had was a make-shift wooden torch on the verge of burning up.

As the remaining ringwraiths turned their hooded faces and began to move towards him, Legolas knew two things were clear; first, if there was one moment they needed those burning arrows it was now, and second, if Lanthir or Limloeth weren't shooting already there would be no burning arrows.

Their plan had relied too heavily on luck, and now it had failed them."Lainfea," he whispered softly to the small being standing between himself and the wraiths without a weapon. "I am sorry..."

* * *

The psysical pain hit him first, but the understanding that followed was much, much worse. His hand went up to his face,feeling the familiar pain of whips' strike, not believing it yet, not understanding that his bowstring had abandoned him at such a crucial moment, that it would break at a time like this.

But then his eye caught the burning arrow tumbling uselessly to the floor and the Nazgul advancing undisturbed at his two siblings out on the field.  
He cursed in the language of the orcs, and yet he still felt the words were not vile enough.

How could their luck fail them now that they needed it the most? How could his bowstring have broken now?  
Lanthir looked aside at his elder sister, who had already lit another, now useless arrow and shook his head.  
"You were right," he said. "We should have ridden to Imladris."

She looked away, not at her little brother, but at the broken body on the forest' floor that laid now forgotten. "No," she said with tears in her eyes. "Whatever happens, you were right. We should not have abandoned Ada. I was a coward. I will not be one anymore."

She held out the burning arrow.

"The bow is broken, Limloeth" Lanthir spoke, defeated.  
She nodded. "Then the arrows are the only weapons we've got."

* * *

From the ground Thranduil could see his world fall apart. His defeat had been meaningless, his pain had been nothing, as long as he had believed his children where safe.

They should have been safe.  
He had sent them away…

But then they had appeared again. First the little one, followed by Legolas and then Lanthir and even Limloeth.

All was lost.

* * *

As Lanthir faced the Nazgul, and searched the hood for where its eyes would be, he realized he did not fear the thing. It screeched as it seen the fire, but somehow the scream did not reach the young elf's heart. He merely looked at the thing and knew that though the Nazgul was indeed frightening, he did not fear it half as much as he feared himself.

At least, if he was killed here today he would not die a monster.

And so, as he plunged the arrow into the black cloak where ever he could hit  
it; he did not care that he was hit himself.

* * *

Lainfea was the first to fall, though Legolas did not see what brought her down.  
He saw Lanthir and Limloeth fighting with nothing but a burning arrow each.  
And the Nazgul were still standing.

"You are your father's son." A cold voice interrupted his despair. He looked up. "You are just as light." The last words was spoken as if it was a curse. "You are just as elven..." Again a curse. Legolas could feel the Nazgul move behind him and the torch was ripped out of his hand.

"And you are just as DEAD."

* * *

_TBC_

:D Told you I would continue  
Liek


	17. Chapter 16

_Chapter 16_

A great darkness filled his head as the blade of the Nazgul touched his back. It was deeper than the darkness of unconsciousness, fouler as well.

There were voices reaching out for him, hissing, telling him he was worth nothing, that he was a slave, worthless, as worthless as his father…  
As useless as his father…  
As….

And then there was a light, brown with shades of green, ancient and wise, chasing the darkness away. The darkness that followed was familiar. Legolas had been in the arms of unconsciousness many times before.

He willingly surrendered.

* * *

Words reached to him, even in the deep state he was, but he could make sense of none of them.  
Some technical details about healing..  
A soft song…  
A dark voice.

"It is a plot, I am telling you. They look innocent, they appear in great danger, first wargs, now Nazgul and each and every time the brown wizard comes to defend them and we end up taking them into our home! Evil plots, Lovis! The hungry elves come to raid us of our honey-cookies again! They will leave none of them untouched!" The smile of the face of the one spoken was almost audible…  
"Don't listen to Borka, little one. Take as many cookies as you like. You deserve a bit of sweetness after being attacked by Wraiths. If Borka thinks we are running low he will bake some more himself."  
"Me? Lovis, you are completely…"

"Legolas?"

He could feel the cool hands of his eldest sister touch his forehead, calming his thoughts. He didn't have to understand all that was happening. Not yet.  
Maybe not ever.

They had found their father again after all.  
He no longer had to be in charge.

"Legolas...you have to wake up." The voice of his sister was shaking ever so slightly.  
"You can't be affected too, not you too."

She too did not make much sense. But then again his siblings had never excelled in the art of sharing of information when they were upset.

They had a tendency to speak in riddles.

"Limloeth…"

He had only whispered her name, very softly and she flung her arms around his neck, holding him as if he was a treasure she had to protect against thieves.  
"You can't leave," she said firmly. "You have to be better."  
There was a certain urgency in her voice that forced his eyes open so he could look at her face. "Limloeth..." he repeated.

Her eyes where worried, more so than they usually were as she studied his face. A bloodied bruise split her lip, and her face was pale, the kind of pale she looked when she had given too much of herself to heal others.  
"Who…?" he asked. "How….the Nazgul…?"  
"It was Radagast. The wizard." She looked over her shoulder and pointed at the friendly man dressed in brown, Legolas had met on their long journey home. "He made a light with his staff that caused the Nazgul to flee before it, and then he brought us to Lovis and Borka's house. You remember… the skinchangers. But we can't stay here. We have to get to Imladris at all speed."  
"I said… I would not fade... I promised…I promised…"  
"This is not about you," she interrupted. "You are right, you did promise, but… Ada was hurt...in the attack. I tried healing, but, his wounds are different. Radagast says it is Mgul poisoning. He says not even he can do anything.  
We need to get him to Lord Elrond.

Radagast said that with his treatment is able to give him two weeks, combined with my strengths we might keep him alive during the journey. But...he cannot come with us. This is all he can give.  
He has...a council or something. Something important."

"Important?" Legolas glared at his sister. What things where more important than his father? Than Greenwood?  
"Lanthir has already yelled at him, Legolas. It didn't help. I guess it really is important. Radagast isn't happy about it either."

Legolas looked again at the wizard sitting by his father's bed and he could see his sister was right. There was something in the wizard's movements… the maia didn't wish to leave. He had to, but he didn't wish it.

Legolas close his eyes and tried to think of what to do. He guessed he was in charge again.

"Two weeks... two weeks is enough to reach Imladris. Two weeks... is long... a long time… on horses…"

"No , Legolas, that is the thing! We don't have horses! They ran away… Borka has not been able to retrieve them… and they didn't react to our voices…  
And all Borka and Lovis are able to lend us is a pony. It cannot bear Ada on its back…"

Legolas opened his eyes again and reached for his boots. "We have to go," he said as he looked into his sister's worried eyes.  
"Lanthir! Lainfea! We have to go."

He stood up in spite of the fact that he was dizzy, in spite of the fact that he felt like he deserved to lay down forever. There was no time to be ill.

"Son…" It was Borka's voice, dark with worry. "I am not sure it is a good idea for you to be up, Lovis…"  
"I am not your son," Legolas snapped, harsher than he had intended. "I am his." The body of his father was sweating, and it looked a sickly blueish form of pale. "He will die unless we leave. So… we will leave. Right now.

Lim? Lanth? Lain? Now. "

_

* * *

_

_TBC (promise) _

* * *


	18. Chapter 17

_Chapter 17_

It was as if the months they had spent at home with their father had been just a dream when Legolas looked at his siblings. The bruises were back on their bodies, as well as the tired look in their eyes, the hints ofexhaustion in the way they moved. But he also found the proud and stubborn look on their faces, their shoulders held high now, and as Legolas looked at his siblings he could see three children that, though they might have been through horrific events, refused to give up, to give in, for they were far stronger than that.

They looked stronger now than they had at the palace, for though they were in trouble again, they were also back on familiar grounds. Sad as it was, this was their world now, this was what they knew.Lainfea didn't have to doubt her abilities to fit in here; this was were she belonged, with her family, with a blade in her small hands. Lanthir could forgive himself forhis fiery nature, his swiftness to kill when killing was necessary. Limloeth could not lose herself in healing now she had a feeling she was needed.

And having their eyes upon him, waiting until he made a decision gave him a sense of being again. It was easier to remember he promised his mother he would forever look after the others when there weren't others around protecting them.  
It was hard to be the one responsible for them all, but at the same time he felt like he was back where he belonged again.

"Come on," he said as he started moving, picking up Lainfea from the ground and left Limloeth and Lanthir to carry their father in-between them on the carrier they had borrowed from the skinchangers.

The pony that tugged behind them carrying blankets and supplies was the only one that looked back.

In the months they had been in the palace, Lainfea had grown. Legolas had not noticed until he held her in his arms again. Her weight was almost too much for him in his rather weakened state, and yet he felt better just to hold her.

He smiled down at her now and she grinned back. She was also changing her teeth, and she had a large hole now in place of one of her front teeth, somehow making her look extra stubborn. Extra cute.  
"We are walking again," she said satisfied, and Legolas hugged her a little closer.  
"You are not," he grinned. "You are being carried."  
Her grin got wider still. "I am small."  
"You are smart. That is it. Having your big brother carry you…"  
She chuckled. "Maybe he is stupid."  
Legolas smiled once more at that. "Careful, you! Or he might have a sudden glimpse of intelligence and put you on the ground."  
"Unlikely," Lanthir mumbled from behind them, but when Legolas turned aroundto glare at him, he looked so innocent even Limloeth grinned.

Legolas smiled.  
In spite of everything, it felt good to be on the move again.

* * *

"Legolas…?"

They had walked quickly for days now, and the feeling of the freedom of  
being on the road again had completely disappeared.  
"We can't stop yet, Limloeth. We are moving too slow already," Legolas said  
as he pushed on determinedly.  
"Legolas, you are looking positively grey. I don't think--" The oldest sibling didn't listen to what his sister thought, continuing to trudge ahead. Their father's life was at stake, and he would not risk stopping too often. For as long as he could he would put his one leg in front of the other, get on as long as possible.

'Well I wouldn't care even if Legolas were purple," Lanthir said suddenly as he carefully placed the carrier with their father down and dropped down beside it. "I am not walking any further." He swiped at his forehead tiredly, wiping the sweat away and shook his head wearily when Legolas turned to glare at him. "Not because I don't want to, Legolas. "

"Want me to carry Ada, then?" Legolas spoke with a soft voice. Though he wanted to scream, he could see his brother was not overreacting. "Lainfea can walk for herself a bit, can't you, Lain? "

The elfing in his arms did not answer.

"Lainfea… Lain...wake up." He shook her a little. Her body suddenly felt strangely limp in his arms. "Lain?"

He tried to remember how long it had been since she spoke. Too long. "Lain? Come on…"  
He shook her again a little and one of her arms fell limply down at her side.  
"Legolas…" Fear saturated Limloeth's voice as she stared at their littlesister. Lanthir had gotten up as well, moving closer.

"She wasn't hurt right?" the youngest brother asked the eldest. "I mean...she fell down, but the Nazgul didn't stab her, right? Could you see…?"

Legolas didn't answer. He carefully put the child upon the floor and frantically started searching her body.

"That would not make sense right? She was laughing and joking...and eating cookies… " Lanthir spoke, desperately trying to deny his own thoughts.  
"Sometimes," Limloeth whispered, "sometimes it just takes a little time for the poison to sink in…"

Legolas tried not to listen. He tried to forget the words they spoke as he forced his mind to come up with less hopeless explanations for his sister's sudden silence.  
Perhaps she was just sleeping.

He repeated that into his head until his hands found the single evidence that would not be the case.There was just a small, small scratch on Lainfea's upper arm. So small that it would have been hard to see, if not the edges of it had turned black. If it had not been the place where her veins had become infected, and the darkness had spread out across her arm.

"Lainfea!" he shouted, holding her close, wrapping his arms around her.  
"LAINFEA!"

She didn't aswer, her eyes stayed closed.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

'What now?' Legolas thought, trying to think past the panic that had taken its hold on his brain. Lainfea... She could not die. She was much too young to die. She had hardly lived... But none of those thoughts were useful now, none of them would help him save her.

He looked at Limloeth, but his sister was pale and exhausted, and he knew that if she had been able to heal Morgul-poisoning, she would have done it by now. She would never have let their sister suffer.

Lanthir was exhausted too, the boy looked drained.. but it none of that was useful information, none of it would help him solve anything...

Lainfea... needed Elrond. And so did his father.

'what now?'

" One of us has to run ahead." he concluded. " We need Elrond. He has to come here, ride here. And the rest of us will have to find a way to keep going. With Ada and Lainfea. Perhaps we can carry them together, Lainfea is just small.."

" I'll do it." Lanthir said tiredly, forcing himself to stand again. " I can make it..." Legolas looked at his brother. Lanthir did not look as if he would be able to walk another step, he was swaying on his feet, and had the circumstances been any different Legolas would have refused his brother to go.

But they weren't.

" Alright." Legolas said. " Alright. Just... Hurry."

Lanthir nodded and started walking, slowly at first, but speeding up as he went. He did not have the energy to speak or to say a goodbye to his siblings, and he did not want to either. Goodbye, in this case, sounded much too final.

Legolas watched him go, and then looked back at his eldest sister

"We have to make it, Limloeth." he whispered.

"We will." she said. "Come on. We can take turns carrying Lainfea. We'll tie her to our back somehow, and then we can carry ada between us."

He nodded, glad she was telling him what to do this time. He was so tired. "Limloeth?" he whispered softly as she did as she said, and tried to tie Lainfea on his back as well as she could, using the blanket that had previously held their father warm. "Please tell me this isn't hopeless."

Limoeth shook her head. "No." she said "It isn't hopeless. Nothing is ever hopeless, until you give up trying."

"And we won't." Legolas said.

"We can't." Limloeth said. "we're too stubborn."

They shared a sad smile and a deep breath before they picked up their father and continued.

Lanthir had gotten ahead of them, and the mountains that had been in the distance for some time were getting closer now, their snowy peaks now towered above him. Behind them was Imladris, and crossing them was the shortest way to get there, but there were goblins here, and wargs and trolls.

"You best not delay me." Lanthir mumbled to himself as he started climbing the steep and rocky ground. "You best not thrown anything dreadful in my path. I mean it." It was a difficult climb, even for an elf, but he knew he could do it, and he refused to take the long way around. "You best not let me meet a troll or a goblin.. for I have no time to be nice to anyone." He was really climbing now, the path had stopped, and his mind was wishing for practical things, like a rope or a pickaxe.. or even just a scarf.

"I best not drop down." he told himself sternly. "I have no time to get injured. And I best not meet any goblins or trolls anywhere. I have had enough."

He climbed on, "I mean it." he kept talking to keep the fear out of his mind. At least if he was talking, challenging he could feel in control.

"I am sick it it." he said, and as he pulled himself up again he reached some kind of path. If he managed to get on there he would be able to walk for a while. He did not want to think what kind of creature woiuld have made a path here.. but nothing would stop him from using it.

"I am so sick of turning the corner and finding another monster waiting for us.  
Why can't you just leave us alone?  
Eh? "  
There was a sound ahead of him, the sound sound of something alive.. breathing... invisible in the mist.

"That better not be something monstrous."Lanthir whispered."If that's a troll, I'll be very very cross. Do you hear me? I mean it. I really really mean it.  
The being in front of him shiften weight.

"I * mean* it." Lathir threathened one more time, hoping the Valar would listen.


End file.
